The Bus from Covington & the Muse of History


Before

A parking lot now. Field with deer before.
The thin moon was an orange sphere before.

Mist obscures the mountain. Money muddies
love. Choices messy that were clear before.

We looked for guidance from lyrics. What did
Iggy mean, had it in the ear before?

The news stirs her to every negative
emotion. Rage and pain now, fear before.

One in three women. Why tell, who’ll believe
you? Kavanaugh likes beer, liked beer before.

Cause of death — battery or drunken fall.
Table, lead pipe, or chandelier. Before

the earth burned, we slept. When his wife left, he
woke up, begged. He’d been cavalier before.

Mary Magdalene still dreams of stones, jeers
from the crowd, the first thrower’s leer before

he throws. Dragged under, Proserpine unpacks,
chucks sticks for Cerberus. She’s been here before.

Books slammed from her hands. Whispered slurs. Bullies
each year more vicious than the year before.

The office sex-charged as school, strategic
as war. Their new boss was a peer before.

Last uncle buried. A dark smudge on your
X-ray. Death’s never felt so near before.

My daughter mocks her old drawings, throws out
once-loved toys. Shamed by what was dear before.

Pity the smug, smirking white boys, hats red
as a dying beast’s scream. Last cheer before

buses carry them into the past. We
advance, rainbow-bold. Gay now, queer before.

King Midas starves among cold, useless gold.
The bride waits for love to appear. Before

dawn, hungry ghosts laugh, You’ve grown soft, Stone. Quick
to cry. You wouldn’t shed a tear before.

xxx

Before “Before,” Alison Stone haiku-ed through D.C. spectacle…

MAGA Hat Haiku
Smug, smirking white boys.
Blocked, the elder prays and drums.
We saw what we saw.